Elizabeth didn’t dare leave the city in the middle of everything. “I certainly don’t feel I deserve any honors, but you should go. Where is it?”
“In Washington City. I can’t leave you alone here with Gideon, though. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Elizabeth didn’t dare be alone with him, proper or not. “Couldn’t I stay with the Vanderslices for a few days?”
“Not really, but in any case, I’m not going. I have far too much to do here. Which reminds me, today is the day I volunteer at the hospital, so I will see you at dinner.”
Elizabeth bid her good-bye and finished her breakfast while she thought about being honored for spending time in the workhouse while trying to escape Thornton. The others might deserve it, but she certainly didn’t.
After she finished her breakfast, she wandered into the parlor to see if Gideon had left the newspapers. Anna was coming over later so they could go shopping, and with Mrs. Bates gone, Elizabeth would have a peaceful morning, at least.
She was already in the middle of the room when she realized her mistake. Gideon rose from where he’d been sitting in the corner near the door, out of the way so she wouldn’t see him until it was too late.
“You startled me,” she said in dismay, watching him close the parlor doors behind her.
“I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She doubted that very much. “Why did you close the doors?”
“Because I need to talk to you, and I don’t want to be overheard.”
She managed a smile. “How very mysterious.”
“I’m not the one being mysterious.”
“Now you’re being confusing.”
“I don’t think so. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, Lizzie.”
She managed not to flinch at the sound of her nickname on his lips. So he had heard the general last night. “Lizzie? Where did that come from?”
“I think you know. I think it’s what people who know you well call you.”
“And what if they do? What business is it of yours?”
“It’s my business if you’re acquainted with General Sterling and plotting something behind my back.”
“Where would you get an idea like that?”
“From the general himself. Last night I heard him say to you, ‘Good job, Lizzie.’ He thought no one but you could hear him when he said it.”
She tried for outrage. “So you were eavesdropping on our private conversation?”
“Don’t try to play the wounded party. You know I just happened to overhear. So you do know the general.”
What should she say? How much would satisfy him and how much could she reveal without damning herself? “He’s . . . an old family friend. That day you took me to the telegraph office, I sent him a message to tell him I was in town. When I saw him later, he told me what he’s doing here, so naturally, I sent him to David.” There, enough of the truth to sound reasonable.
“He told David the senator had sent him.”
Dear Gideon, such a stickler for details. “Would you and David have been so helpful if he’d told you I sent him?”
“Of course we would!” He sounded insulted.
“Well, I couldn’t be certain and neither could the general. I knew David didn’t want to do business with Thornton, so he might have used any excuse to turn the general away. I suspect you would have, too.”
His troubled frown told her she was right. “But why were you so interested in helping the general?”
“I told you, he’s a family friend.”
“A man like that doesn’t need your help to make contacts.”
He was right, of course. “I . . . I wanted David to benefit. So we could go to Europe on our honeymoon.”
“You said you didn’t care about going to Europe.”
“I lied!” she snapped in exasperation. “When you told me David wasn’t rich, I knew it was up to me to change our fortunes.”
“But you already knew he wasn’t rich when you agreed to marry him.”
Elizabeth rubbed her temples, which were starting to ache. Gideon always brought out the worst in her. She needed to stop arguing and start playing him. She took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m afraid I’m not as unworldly as you believe. Yes, I did know David wasn’t rich, but I wasn’t satisfied to have him remain so. I was planning all along to encourage him in that direction.”
“And how many business deals do you think you’ll be able to conjure up for him in the next forty years?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about how idiotic your plan sounds. If you want David to be rich, you’ll have to find dozens of Thorntons and General Sterlings over the entire course of your married life, because David isn’t capable of it, as I think you know perfectly well.”
“How do you know what I do and do not know? And how dare you accuse me of . . . of . . . ?”
“Of what? Of not having a good enough story to cover up what you’re really doing?”
Elizabeth’s breakfast curdled into a ball of acid in her stomach. How could he know that?
“And while you’re thinking,” he added, as if being helpful, “you can think up a reason why you’re so afraid of Oscar Thornton.”
“Why would I be afraid of Thornton?” she asked, outraged that he had seen it.
“I have no idea. I only know that when you met him last night, presumably for the very first time, you actually recoiled when he got too close to you, and he treated you with complete contempt at dinner and afterward. And don’t bother denying it. The two of you obviously have a history. So how do you know Oscar Thornton?”
“That’s none of your business,” she tried, knowing she couldn’t tell him the story she’d told Anna. Even if it could explain everything, which it couldn’t, he’d never accept such a patched-together mess of truth and lies.
“I suppose you’re right, but what is my business is why you’re so determined to make him rich.”
“I’m not!”
He peered at her in that way he had that made her think he could see into her very soul. “And yet everything you’re doing will accomplish that.”
Suddenly, she knew just how to play this. Gideon didn’t want Thornton to succeed any more than she did, and she could actually tell him some of the truth to convince him to help her. “It only looks that way.”
Now she had his interest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that this deal will end up ruining him.”
“And how do you—and the general, I assume—plan to accomplish that?”
“I . . . I’m not sure, exactly,” she lied. She figured Gideon would believe a mere female wouldn’t know the intricacies of business. “The general is handling that part of it. My part was just to get the two of them together and give things a nudge now and then if necessary.”
“And why do you want to ruin Thornton?”
“I . . . It’s a long story,” she hedged, her mind racing. “Maybe we should sit down.”
He gestured to the nearest sofa. She sat at one end, assuming he’d sit beside her, but he took a chair at right angles to her, the better to see her face. She silently cursed him even as she smiled as sweetly as she could manage.
“A long story, you said,” he prodded when she hesitated.
“Yes, well, you see, Thornton ruined my family’s business.”
“What kind of business was that?”
“A mill. A textile mill.” Details always made a story more believable.
“In South Dakota?”
“Yes. My father was . . . not a very good businessman. The mill was failing, and he needed an investor. Thornton stepped in and . . . and eventually, he forced my father out. We were bankrupt.” There. Take that, Gideon Bates.
He stared at her for a lon
g moment, his face expressionless. “And I suppose your poor father shot himself in despair.”
“What?”
“Isn’t that how these stories usually end? And then Thornton tied you to the railroad tracks to force you to sign the business over to him.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about your sad story, Miss Miles, which sounds too much like a penny dreadful to be true. You really need to embellish it if you expect to get sympathy. You need to work on some of the details, as well. For example, there are no textile mills in South Dakota, and I doubt Oscar Thornton even knows where South Dakota is, much less that he has ever invested in anything there. I’m even starting to wonder if you’ve ever been to South Dakota yourself.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” she demanded with frustration that wasn’t even feigned.
“I am, although I’m aware it’s terribly ungentlemanly of me and my mother would be ashamed.”
Which was exactly what she had intended to say, so she was momentarily speechless.
He took the opportunity to add, “I’m fairly certain that some of what you’ve told me is the truth. You do know the general and Thornton, and you obviously wish Thornton ill for some reason. Knowing Thornton, I’m sure it’s a good reason, so I can’t fault you for that. What I don’t understand is why you won’t just tell me what it is, when you know perfectly well that I’d also be happy to see Thornton ruined.”
But what could she tell him? In the story she’d told Anna, she was an innocent victim simply trying to escape Thornton’s revenge. That wouldn’t explain why she wanted to cheat Thornton out of what remained of his fortune, though. Or would it? Perhaps it could, with just a few minor changes . . .
“All right, then, I’ll tell you. You were right—I’m not from South Dakota. I’m from right here in New York. About a month ago, my brother and I were traveling to Washington, and we met Thornton on the train, and—”
“Stop.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong is I’m tired of your lies, so don’t bother telling me a story about your mythical brother. I’ll jump ahead and blow his brains out in despair so you don’t have to. Now we can sit here all day while you dream up more stories, but we’re not leaving this room until you tell me the truth.”
The truth. She didn’t think she even knew what that was anymore, and even if she did, telling it would hardly help. Telling it would also mean Gideon Bates would never look at her the same way again. Not that she cared how he looked at her. At least not very much. And what did it matter? As soon as the deal was done, she’d be leaving the city. She’d probably never see Gideon Bates again. Better for all concerned if he despised her. Oh, and if she told him, he also might ruin the whole plan. Which should have been her first consideration. And it was, really. Her life and Jake’s were in danger after all. That was the most important thing. Really.
“Or maybe,” Gideon said, his dark eyes glittering, “I should just ask Thornton why you would want to see him ruined. I’m sure he’d be happy to tell me.”
“No, you can’t!”
“But I can, and I will, unless you tell me first.”
“All right! But you have to promise . . .”
“Promise what?”
What had she been going to demand? That he not tell his mother she was a liar and a thief? That he not hate her? Now she was being idiotic. “Nothing. I was going to ask that you not ruin the plan, but I don’t think you will when you’ve heard everything.”
He looked as if he might like to shake her, but he said, “All right, then, why are you out to ruin Thornton?”
“Because he’s going to kill me.”
“Don’t be melodramatic, Miss Miles. Why would Thornton want to kill you?”
“Because Jake and I cheated him out of fifty thousand dollars.”
His shock was almost comic. She expected many questions, but not the one he finally asked. “Who’s Jake?”
“My . . . partner, and I’m not being melodramatic. Thornton almost did kill Jake, or at least his goons did, and they would’ve done the same to me if they’d caught me. I only got away from them by getting myself arrested with the suffragists.”
“But what would make him do such a thing?”
“I told you,” she snapped. “We cheated him out of fifty thousand dollars. That tends to make a man testy.”
Gideon shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “How could a woman like you have done a thing like that?”
There it was. Now he would hate her. But it was the only way. “You don’t know a thing about me, Mr. Bates. I’m a grifter, and I come from a long line of grifters. Cheating people is how we make our living.”
He didn’t believe her, or at least he didn’t want to. She could see it on his face. And how could he? Sitting there in his mother’s parlor in her fashionable gown, she must be the picture of female innocence. “How did you cheat him?”
She sighed. Here it was, the end of everything. “We ran a rag on him. He thought he was going to make a fortune, but Jake and I didn’t have any money for a setup, so we had to do it against the wall, and—”
“You did what?” he asked, horrified.
She winced. “We ran a rag,” she explained with deliberate patience.
For some reason, his face had turned scarlet. “No, the . . . the other thing you said.”
“Oh.” She gave herself a little shake. She should have realized he wouldn’t understand any of that. He was just a winchell after all. “The rag is a stock market swindle. When you run the rag, you need to set up a store, a place where you can take the mark to make him think you’re dealing with a real broker. It looks like a real broker’s office and people are working there and it has telephones and tickers and everything. But we didn’t have the money to set one up, so we had to play him against the wall. That means Jake just pretended he was going to see the broker, but he never actually took Thornton there.”
This time Gideon said, “Oh,” with obvious relief.
She frowned. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“Nothing.”
But the truthful Mr. Bates was lying! “No, tell me. I need to know what I said that made you turn so red.”
“I didn’t turn red!”
“You were blushing like a schoolgirl,” she informed him. “You must tell me. If I said something shocking, I need to know what it was so I don’t do it again!”
Clearly, he didn’t want to tell her, which meant it was pretty awful. Dear heaven, she’d actually shocked him. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Are you . . . are you and Jake lovers?”
Not at all what she expected him to say. “Of course not! He’s my brother. And not my mythical brother, either.”
He actually looked relieved. “You said he was your partner.”
“He was, in the con. And I was afraid to say he was my brother again because you already said you didn’t believe that and blew his brains out. He’s really only my half brother. We never even met until I was thirteen. And it was all his fault the deal curdled. I kept telling him Thornton wasn’t really hooked, but he wouldn’t listen to a woman. I was lucky to get away when I did, and . . . You still haven’t told me what I said. Does it have something to do with Jake and me being lovers?”
Gideon ran a hand over his face, as if he wanted to make himself disappear. “This is extremely improper.”
“I don’t care. You have to tell me.”
He sighed with resignation. “Do you know what a prostitute is?”
Oh dear. “Of course.” She’d grown up surrounded by men, after all.
He looked a little shocked at that, too, but he soldiered on. “If a man wants to purchase the . . . favors of a prostitute, but he doesn’t have enough . . . that is, he can’t afford the cost of a room . . .” To E
lizabeth’s delight, he was blushing again. “They will find an alley, and she will . . . they will . . .” He gestured helplessly. “Against the wall.”
She gaped at him. “Is that even possible?”
He made a valiant attempt to glare at her. “I wouldn’t know.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth to smother her laugh. She’d never imagined seeing Gideon Bates so discomfited.
He tried to cover his embarrassment with anger, but she wasn’t fooled. “Now it’s your turn, Miss Miles. Start at the beginning, and tell me everything.”
Suddenly, she no longer felt an urge to laugh. This was worse than she could have imagined, but she’d already told him that she was a grifter, so she probably couldn’t sink any lower in his opinion. She started with meeting Thornton on the train and running the con, then how it went bad and how Thornton’s men beat up Jake and started after her, and how she joined the suffragists to escape, and finally how Thornton’s men had captured her here in the city and taken her to him.
“He wanted to know where his money was, and he was going to beat it out of me, and if that didn’t work he and his men were going to . . . to violate me.”
Gideon flinched at that, so at least he didn’t hate her completely. “Dear God. Why didn’t you just give him his money back?”
Was he serious? Of course he was. “Because I couldn’t betray my friends and family to a man who’d kill them without a qualm,” she said, certain he would understand that, at least. “Besides, the money . . . Well, I couldn’t get it back even if I tried.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s gone!”
“Gone where?”
“I don’t know! You see, we only got half of it to start with. Less than half, forty-five percent. That’s what the ropers get, and Jake and I were the ropers, the ones who roped Thornton in. Then Jake and I split that between us.”
Gideon blinked. He’d probably consider even half of forty-five percent to be a fortune. “What happened to the rest?”
“Mr. Coleman got that. He paid the expenses out of it and kept what was left. Knowing him, he’s probably gambled it away by now. In any case, I don’t even know where he is.”
City of Lies Page 25
